


to the head

by nauticalwarrior



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Concussions, Fluff, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13234986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalwarrior/pseuds/nauticalwarrior
Summary: Ouma hit his head pretty hard, didn't he?[contains inadvisable medic stuff, vomiting, blood, and injuries. spoilers for up to the 3rd trial, set shortly after it]





	to the head

**Author's Note:**

> more,,,, hurt/comfort??? from me???

After leaving the dining hall, Shuuichi steps into the men's restroom on the way to his room, the door shutting softly behind him. He turns to the mirror, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It's sticking up, more than normal, which  _ has  _ to be Momota’s fault for ruffling it at dinner. Shuuichi turns the tap on to try and tame it with some water, when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up in the stall behind him.

 

He freezes, wondering if he imagined it before he hears it again. It's quiet, for someone being sick, and he wonders if the person realizes he's in here and is trying to hide it. Shuuichi turns off the water and turns to face the stall door. He already knows who's in there; only one person wasn't at dinner with him. Shuuichi taps on the stall door with one knuckle.

 

“Ouma-kun? Are you alright?” Shuuichi holds his breath, listening. 

 

Ouma laughs, and it's shaky, slurred. “Huh? Is Saihara-chan worried about me?” The lock on the stall slides open with a click, and the door opens inward. Ouma is leaning against the stall wall, beads of sweat on his forehead and a wide grin on his face.

 

“Were you throwing up?” Shuuichi knows that he was. He's not even sure why he asked. 

 

“No,” Ouma replies, not surprisingly. “Are you following me? Can't stay away?” Ouma stumbles out of the stall, clearly unsteady on his feet, and Shuuichi steps back in alarm. Ouma wobbles in place, looking like he might be sick again.

 

“What happened? Are you sick?” Shuuichi wonders if someone would have had the time to get poison from his new lab yet. Unlikely, since Ouma's been missing all day; when would they have had time to poison him? Ouma sways, then tips forward, taking a few steps to try and catch himself. Shuuichi grabs his shoulders and steadies him without thinking, frowning. Ouma seems really out of it, and is that  _ blood _ on his forehead?

 

“Did you already... forget? Saihara... chan.” Ouma's words are even more slurred together, almost unintelligible, and Shuuichi suddenly remembers Ouma's fake death during yesterday's investigation. That was a  _ real  _ injury, Ouma had said, and the hole in the floor was real, but...

 

“You were fine during the trial, though!” Shuuichi guides Ouma so that his back is to the sink counter, but when he lets go of him, Ouma grabs his arm.

 

“I didn't... feel bad... back then.” Ouma tugs Shuuichi forward, and Shuuichi carefully moves closer, letting Ouma lean his head on his chest. “My... head hurts, Saihara-chan.” Ouma is panting between words, and Shuuichi can feel him leaning more and more into him. He carefully wraps his arms around Ouma, holding him up. Shit. This isn't good-- this kind of head injury is deadly, right? 

 

“Ouma? I'm going to open the door and call for someone.” Shuuichi hears a mumbled something in response, but he doesn’t try to decipher it. He uses his closest hand to turn the knob on the door to the hall and shove it open. 

 

“Hey! Someone!” Shuuichi yells with all of his might, praying that someone hears. Ouma groans and shoves his face into Shuuichi, clinging to the front of his shirt with weak, shaky hands. “Ouma's hurt!” Thankfully, Shuuichi hears footsteps almost immediately, and Harukawa appears in the doorway with Shirogane right behind her. 

 

“What happened?” Harukawa has a dark look on her face, and her gaze is flicking back forth between Shuuichi's face and where Ouma is clutching his chest. Shuuichi tries not to think about the fact that he can feel tears soaking through his shirt and that they're probably real, given the situation. 

 

“He's still hurt from when he fell through the floorboards yesterday.” Shuuichi pauses, not wanting to think about yesterday in general, but he presses on. “Something's wrong. He was fine earlier, but I walked in on him throwing up.” 

 

Harukawa frowns. “That's not good.” She leans forward and gently tugs on Ouma's shoulder, turning him and examining the cut on the crown of his head. Ouma is crying softly, and he looks completely out of it. Harukawa looks from the cut to his eyes, then up to Shuuichi.

 

“Do you know what's wrong?” Shuuichi feels sick, anxious. He can feel Ouma struggling to stay upright even with his hands on Shuuichi for balance.

 

“Yes. I'm glad it was him that hit his head.” Harukawa starts to walk away, but pauses when Momota appears in the doorway.

 

“What's wrong? I heard Shuuichi shouting, is he--” Momota's eyes finally fall onto the scene. “Oh, shit.” 

 

Shuuichi looks to Harukawa, who still seems to be trying to leave. “Harukawa, what's wrong with him?”

 

“Besides being evil?” Harukawa rolls her eyes. “He's probably got a hematoma. He'll be dead in a few hours if he's lucky, a couple days if not.” She pushes past Momota, who looks too shocked to stop her.

 

“Shuuichi, what's going on? Is this another murder?” Momota crouches down slightly to look at Ouma better.

 

Shuuichi swallows, frowning. “No... This was an accident. Remember yesterday, when I said in the trial that Ouma-kun found a hole in the floorboards of the other room? He fell through.” Shuuichi feels Ouma's weight lean against him more, and Ouma presses his face back into his shirt. “He was fine at the trial, but...”

 

Momota's brows furrow. “So that's why Harumaki thinks he's got a hematoma, huh?” 

 

“What do you mean?” Shuuichi tilts his head.

 

“I'm the ultimate astronaut, remember? We have to know this kind of stuff in case it happens in space. A hematoma’s like he's got bleeding next to his brain, pressing on it. That's why he's getting worse, not better.”

 

Shuuichi swallows. “Is he really going to die?” He feels sick. It'd almost be like Shinguji got away with  _ three _ murders. 

 

Momota looks away, rubs the back of his neck. “Well, unless we can drain the blood, probably. I'm sure we could find something to--”

 

“Why would we?” Harukawa's voice surprises Shuuichi, and he barely stops himself from jumping back. She's just behind Momota, probably, out of Shuuichi's sight by a thread. 

“Harumaki...” Momota steps to the side, and he looks at her. Shuuichi can see her; she's not angry, just matter of fact. 

 

“He's done nothing but make this worse for us. I fail to see why we should waste our efforts on saving him.” She folds her arms over her chest. 

 

“Yeah, but...” Momota trails off. “This feels wrong.” 

 

Shuuichi nods, feeling Ouma's weight against him, feeling how he's shaking, feeling tears seep through his shirt. He's not certain, but he thinks he felt Ouma's grip tighten when Harukawa suggested letting him die. Shuuichi shifts his grip on Ouma so that the smaller boy has to support less of his own weight. 

 

“If we let him die, Shinguji will have killed three people.” Shuuichi swallows. “We can't support the killing game like that. And Ouma-kun is still a person, even if he's done things we don't like.” 

 

“I agree.” Shirogane appears behind Harukawa, peering into the room. “I, ah, missed some of the conversation, but I think Saihara-kun is right. I don't want that pervert to have any more kills even if it's after he's dead.” 

 

Harukawa sighs. “Fine. How do you suggest we solve this, then?” She folds her arms across her chest, staring Shuuichi down. 

 

Momota answers instead. “Well, we have to drain the blood, right? He's obviously not just going to get better on his own.” 

 

“That sounds... medically inadvisable.” Shirogane nervously bites at her lips. 

 

“We could ask Iruma-san to make us a machine? That way nobody has to do it by hand.” Shuuichi runs a hand through his hair. 

 

“I guess.” Harukawa sighs. “If it goes poorly, we need to give up. Ouma's death needs to be ruled as an accident or Shinguuji’s fault, not one of us.”

 

Shuuichi nods, ignoring the way she just assumes that Ouma isn't making it through this. Another execution because of this would be... awful.

 

“Don't worry, 'kawa-chan...” Ouma twists away from Shuuichi, and his wide, unevenly dilated pupils stare blankly. “...kill myself... if it goes bad.” 

 

“What?” Shuuichi blinks, trying to get a better look at Ouma. 

 

“I'll... drink poison, from... your lab.” Ouma leans back against Shuuichi. “Mmm. You'll help, right.... Maki?”

 

Harukawa sighs. “I suppose.”

 

\--

 

Kokichi feels like his stomach is swirling and twisting, his head heavy and throbbing, his chest full of cotton. He groans, grimacing at the way the sound makes his head pound, and opens his eyes to a dimly lit bedroom. Not his, he notes. Far too clean. Everything still looks fuzzy and smeared, but he doesn't feel like he's falling off of a cliff into oblivion. 

“Ouma-kun?” The voice is soft and gentle in a way that only Saihara's could. His head pops into view, lips pursed and brows furrowed gently, hair tussled enough that Kokichi's sure he stayed up all night watching him. Or all day? Kokichi can't tell.

 

“How long... have I been out?” He winces, both at the way his voice grates inside his skull and the mushy, distorted slurring of his voice. 

 

Saihara frowns a little deeper, then brushes a lock of Kokichi's hair off of his face. Ah. Kokichi hadn't been able to see it, but he supposes it must have been bothering Saihara. That, or Saihara's worried.

 

“About 40 hours, I think.” He swallows, and Kokichi can see it in his throat. “Harukawa-san said letting you sleep was a bad idea, but we couldn't get you up after...” He trails off, looks away.

 

“Hmm?” Kokichi's head is clearing a bit now. He sits up a bit, leaning his shoulders against the pillow. 

 

“After the procedure.” Saihara squeezes his eyes shut, and Kokichi resists the urge to reach up and touch his face.

 

“Oh, so you really did try to save me?” Kokichi lets himself grin, wide and manic. It hurts his cheeks. “I knew you would, Saihara-chan!” He didn't, but that doesn't matter because he's  _ still here _ and Saihara's warm chest, his worried eyes and concerned voice are the last thing Kokichi remembers. 

 

If Saihara notices the lie, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he reaches behind him, grabbing a glass of water and holding it nervously in front of Kokichi. He hesitates.

 

“Um, do you think you'd be able to drink this?” Saihara stares at the water in lieu of his face, and Kokichi giggles even though it rattles in his skull.

 

“No way! My hands are too weak, Saihara-chan!” Kokichi suspects that, were he to try, this might actually be the truth. But if it remains untested, Kokichi is just fine and simply taking advantage of the situation to tease Saihara. 

 

Saihara sighs. “I meant without throwing up.” He pauses. “I can hold it for you though.”

 

Kokichi blinks, then considers. “Mmm, if I throw up, I'll make sure to get it alllllll over you.” 

 

Saihara just sighs and rubs his temples. “Can you  _ please _ just be honest about the medically related questions? Just those?” 

 

Kokichi giggles and reaches up, trying to poke Saihara on the nose. He misses, probably on the account of the fact he kinda has double vision, but it feels like he's made his point anyways. 

 

“I don't think I'll throw up, Saihara-chan.” He watches Saihara's eyes examine his face, then drops the smile as the glass of water is brought to his lips. He drinks from it gratefully, suddenly aware of how  _ thirsty _ he is. The glass is empty on a heartbeat, and Saihara pulls back, watching him carefully.

 

“You have to tell someone if you feel like you're going to throw up or you feel worse, okay? This is important.” Saihara sets the glass down on the table that's just out of Kokichi's vision but must be there. 

 

“Mmhm.” Kokichi blinks, then yawns. “'M tired, Saihara-chan.” 

 

Saihara looks mildly alarmed. “Are you feeling dizzy? Does your head hurt?” 

 

Kokichi lets his eyes slide shut, and he makes a noise of disagreement. “Not any more than when I first woke up.”

 

He hears Saihara shift beside him. “Alright, just... I'm staying here.”

 

As Kokichi falls asleep, he swears he can feel a warm hand on his.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Psychobabble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242396) by [Azia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azia/pseuds/Azia)




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